Not First, Not Second
by CrossingTheBoundary
Summary: Never did I think that he could hurt me. Not him. Especially not him. Everyone else? I KNEW they would. One by one, leaving me- if they were even with me to start with- for Feliciano. Cute, adorable, sweet Feliciano. That's right. My brother. Lovino fucking Vargas' younger brother.


So this story was basically based on all the angst/hurt stories I have ever read on SpaMano. This is most likely going to be a multi-chapter story depending on how I grow to feel about it. So yeah, R and R please?

WARNINGS: Yaoi(BoyXBoy), Self-Harm, Angst, OOC in some parts

Don't like, Don't read.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. All rights go to the rightful owner.  
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Summary  
Never did I think that he could hurt me. Not him. Especially not him. Everyone else? I KNEW they would. One by one, leaving me- if they were even with me to start with- for Feliciano. Cute, adorable, sweet Feliciano. That's right. My brother. Lovino fucking Vargas' younger brother.

"Lovi? Hey, Lovi, wake up!", a loud voice called. A loud, familiar voice.

"Hmmm. He's not waking up. I know! Lovi, I have tomatoes!", almost immediately my hazel eyes fluttered open. A pair of bright, emerald orbs gazed back into mine. HIS bright, emerald orbs.

"Yes! I just knew it would work!", he grinned happily, showing his flawless white teeth.

"Oh, just shut up bastard. What time is it?", I grumbled, mentally smiling at his childishness. For a second, Antonio glanced at the clock upon my bedside drawer and back to me.

"It's 10:30! Wait. 10:30?! The churros are in the oven! Dios mio! They're going to burn!", the Spaniard jumped up from my bed, hurrying to the door.  
"Lovi, do boss a favor and come down to eat soon. Por favor?", I nodded my head before he rushed down the hall to the kitchen. Sighing, I ran my slender fingers through the dark auburn mess I like to call hair. The sheets were never made anyways, so I just got up and left them there. The mirror facing the bed mocked me, informing me of every flaw, every scar on my disgusting body.

Cutting is what I resorted to. I mean, after I really got older and realized the only people who'd actually love me were Feliciano and Antonio. Everyone else preferred my brother. My fucking little brother. The one who was so innocent. The one who never cursed as I did. The one whom I could never bring myself to selfishly hate. They all thought of me as the rebel. I honestly can't blame them. My part of the nation IS known for its mafia and I'm damn proud of it. But really, can't they show at least some love? It wouldn't hurt, would it?

I pushed the thought aside and headed out the door and down the stairs, where a few other voices could be heard, "Ve~ Grazie for inviting Ludwig and I! We were very happy to get your call! But are you sure you don't mind us?"

"No problema, Feli. If it's you, I am always okay with it!"

The thought of them being there shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. How can it not when even Antonio is acting so loving towards Feliciano? Soon you'd see him telling me to move out so he could spend more time with his "dear Feli". That wouldn't happen, he loves me too much. Or at least that's what I thought.

I soon made it into the kitchen, as that was where all the others were. No words of acknowledgement. Nothing. Antonio was still speaking to Feliciano- a bit too adoringly might I add- and Ludwig just observed with a small, but noticeable glint of jealousy in his sky eyes.

'Of course. The attention is all on Feliciano. No one has the time- or heart- to even check around for useless Lovino,' I thought with a scowl upon my face. Since it didn't seem like anyone was going to break the conversation anytime soon and I was unbelievably starving, I went ahead and stole myself a churro from the wooden table and plopped down into the nearest seat. Toni and Feliciano's chat still continued even after I finished the delectable treat.

'Honestly, how could they have THIS much to talk about?', I inquired myself as I made my way back to my respected room. Once inside, I slammed the door out of anger and resentment. He told me to come down and I did. But of course the damn younger half of me had to be present. Not to mention the fucking potato bastard also "gracing" us with his presence as well.

I growled, craving much needed consideration. I felt the need to cut arise once again as my heart strings were tugged when I heard the voices outside the protection of my door, "Big brother Antonio, where's fratello?"

"Oh, Lovino? He probably fell asleep again. You know how he can be," a pause until he started again," But anyways, we still have so much to catch up on! You've grown to be such a lovable young man Feli! Come on, let's eat while we talk!"

That was it. I felt my heart break. Not only had Antonio called me by my full name for the first time in centuries, but he had also brushed off the mere thought of my whereabouts and bounced back to "catching up" with Feliciano. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes when I recalled the time Nonno chose the kid to travel around with him and left me behind, vulnerable to any attackers. The memory was brought up by the familiar feeling of being alone once more.

Unable to fight it off any longer, I scrambled over to the dresser and rummaged around for my emotional escape, the razor blade. Upon discovering it, I sadly smiled at the thought of new pain and crimson beauty and staggered into the bathroom where I had harmed myself so many times before. Slowly, I stared up at the mirror, my eyes baring into those of the rugged reflection. A sheer chill of repulsion came over me as I took in all the image had to show. Not being able to handle how revolting I really appeared, I tugged up my sleeve instead, revealing all past scars that had healed and some that were more recent and fresh.

I fumbled to find the razor that would escort my depression out my mind and when I did, I searched for a place to place a new reminder. A reminder that I can never be good enough for the shit people call love. A row of old cuts strung along the length of my arm, not leaving much space to add an additional. I yanked my other sleeve up now as well, just to find the exact same gashes lining this arm as it did the other.

There was no room in any of my usual spots, so I decided to try out a new area. My waist. Lifting the long sleeved shirt up to my skinny chest, a whole blank canvas was clear. Free to be dirtied my anything. I soon realized that the anything , would be the sharp blade. I disregarded the thought and held the razor in a position above my right hip. For a second, my mind went completely white as I dragged the sharp edge straight into and across my skin. Soon, little bits of scarlet grew visible, only making me crave more.

Again I slashed, deeper and deeper each time. I was losing an unhealthy amount of valuable blood. I felt my mind grow hazy and begin to fade. But that was okay. It's just loss of blood anyways, isn't it? That's what I thought at least. Because when I attempted to pull myself back on my feet, light-headedness swept over my head and I collapsed, falling to the snowy white, tiled floor.

I awoke to the agonizing pain that throbbed throughout my entire body. To be honest, I expected to be in a hospital, wired up and surrounded by concerned expressions of both doctors and friends. Much to my dismay, no one faces showed worry, no one was actually present, and I was still lying on the cold ground of my bathroom. Only tears blurred my vision. Hadn't this meant that no one had bothered to come look for me, or if they had- which was probably unlikely- didn't bother to help? The thought only buried my last feelings of hope and pummeled me with an incredible amount of emotive suffering.

I gave a barely audible whimper as I trembled with wounded emotions and bleeding wrists. I'm pretty sure I stayed on that pure white floor for at least a few hours. Usually Antonio would be here, but Feliciano and Ludwig were probably still over. I sighed a shaky breath as the first of many warm drops of hurt trickled down my pale cheeks. Eventually, I forced myself off the flooring and reached in the cabinet to fetch a few bandages. The routine wasn't THAT different, I had just slipped into the disturbingly intriguing state of unconsciousness this time around.

After I finished thoroughly wrapping up my scabbing, slitted arms, I snatched my blade from the ground and walked out the door with a pounding headache. Quickly, I returned the small razor to the drawers and made one more hasty check for any noticeable signs. Everything was fine, except for the stupid, ugly face of mine. I inhaled a deep breath once more before turning the doorknob and unintentionally depressedly moved down the staircase and again into the kitchen. No one was there. 'They're probably in the living room,' I thought heading into the said space.

As expected, there sat the three on the black leather couch Antonio and I had both chosen at the furniture store. After just standing there and listening in to the almost nonsensical conversation, I gruffly cleared my throat.

Only Ludwig seemed to even notice my presence- considering he wasn't busy talking away with the other two- and acknowledged, "Lovino,"

To which I replied with a similar response, "Ludwig," The German man looked astonished about the fact that I hadn't called him a rude, heartless name like "the potato bastard" or "potato fucker". I couldn't blame him, I was always like that, giving people shameful nicknames and calling them that just to make it seem I was superior to them all. It's like it was the only way to feel better, although in cold reality, it only worsened how I felt about myself.

Neither I nor Ludwig had spoken anything else, the silence between us felt comforting to me. But soon enough, Feliciano stood and called for Ludwig," Luddy! It's time to go home come on!" As the two bid their farewells to Toni they walked out the door, Feliciano going on about wanting pasta despite already eating.

Turning from the door, Antonio jumped at me being right behind him.

"Lovi! You scared me! How long have you been there? "

I breathed in offended that he really hadn't realized I was in the room that entire time.

"Why should you care? ", I spat out, harsher than that I intended.

To this, he only raised a brow and answered, "Maybe because I have to?"

My heart shattered, "You have to? That's your answer?"

I chuckled darkly, "YOU HAVE TO! So what? You only "love" me because you fucking have to!?" Tears streamed down my face in an annoying manner, but I let them fall. He needed to see just how much he'd hurt me.

Again I started, "I don't think you give a shit, even if you HAVE TO. You're too damn worked up with my fucking brother to even notice I actually came down here when you asked me to! I don't even know why I try anymore! Why I try so hard for you to really love me the way I do you," My voice cracked in that last sentence. I only stared at Antonio, whose expression showed disbelief, hurt, but not even the slightest hint of sympathy or concern.

Suddenly, the voice I loved so much turned sinister, "Is that how you feel?"

He smirked, "Then maybe you're right. Maybe I don't care. Maybe you really aren't worth anything like I thought,"

I froze. The already gloomy day just seemed to get darker and colder by the second. Slowly, I pivoted on my feet and bolted out the door under the crying sky. I ran in one direction and never once stopped. That is, until I was forcibly stopped...by a deep red car.

Ugh. I'm so done. So the next chapter MIGHT be up next week. Or not. I have school and crap. Anyways, if you have any suggestions, advice, or corrections, press that kawaii~ little review button down there. Or just PM me. I don't care.

_Au Revoir, Mon Ami_

-CrossingTheBoundary


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